Cold Hands
by Dethroned
Summary: A young woman travels to another city by herself to get away from her problems. One night, after much thought and consideration, she thinks she's found a way to solve them, only someone comes along that may or may not ruin her plans. One-shot. Completed.
1. Black Skies, Black Waters

Chapter 1 – Black Skies, Black Waters

It was late, well past midnight, and still I found myself walking a lonely path off of the lit up streets of the city. Alone I was, on a wide sidewalk shadowed by tall brick buildings to my left and an open seascape to my right. A waist high barrier of cement and metal railing kept me from the sudden drop the edge of the sidewalk offered to the unsuspecting.

The sea was as black as a bucket of pitch, mimicking the sky in all but its stillness. The small ripples on the surface of the water gave it away, betraying it.

Anywhere else and there might have been stars reflecting back, but too much electricity and too much pollution had obscured them from view. The only objects visible in that black expanse were an almost-full moon and an occasional airplane whose lights flashed in the distance.

I kept walking forward, one black boot in front of the other, my pace slower than usual. There was no destination in mind, no place I had to be or place I should have been. I wandered aimlessly, merely sorting the thoughts in my head, breathing the air and letting it oxygenate my lungs.

The truth was that the night soothed my nerves. There was something about a black sky that offered wisdom and comfort. Maybe it was because when the sun was down everything felt less chaotic and quieter. It gave me time to think without all of the noise and confusion the daylight hours gave.

I pulled the black shoulder bag I was carrying closer to my side so that I might reach in, but I refrained from doing so. Merely pressing the bulk of it to me gave me comfort, however small it may be.

Frankly, I hadn't a clue what I was doing out here or why I'd brought with me the things I had. It was likely due to me not thinking clearly, or at all. Numbness sometimes conquered my thought processes so that none ever made it to the surface.

I sighed, closing my eyes for a short while and continued to stride.

A breeze came in off the ocean, brushing against my face and lifting my hair. It was cool and snuck right through the fabric of the long-sleeved shirt I was wearing, causing my skin to gooseflesh. I hugged my arms to my body, silently cursing for forgetting to grab a jacket.

A few meters ahead of me a back door hidden in the brick edifice opened, pouring out flickering light and loud music. A guy dressed in tight black apparel stepped out moments later holding a large case for an instrument. The door shut and all was quiet again except for the guy's mumbling of a song. He appeared to be in fairly good spirits, or drunk.

I stopped and waited to see which direction he was going before I resumed my solitary stroll. It turned out the rocker was heading in the same direction I was going, so I waited for him to further the distance between us before I started moving again. I didn't want to draw his attention toward me.

Further on the waist-high barrier gave way to a full on wall, blocking out the view of the sea. Instead it offered plenty of verdant shrubbery and other plant life to compensate. Other than the fact that I found it drab compared to what I'd previously been looking at, the pathway now felt considerably closed in. Opposite the brick enclosure sat large opaque windows in a cement wall that lit up the walkway from within. I huffed and half listened to the stranger's moderate singing and watched his inability to walk a straight line.

Gradually the seconds passed and I felt a strange sensation on the back of my neck like someone was watching me. I stopped and turned around and to the side of me but nothing visible was there. A fleeting light wind passed by me and caused the hair around my face to shift, but it didn't feel like the draft I felt moments ago. It was lighter and felt more like someone ran past my stationary form. I glanced at the nearby vegetation and saw they too were shimmying faintly. When I looked forward again the man with the guitar case was gone and his singing muted.

I hadn't been in this city for very long, but I'd been here enough times to know that there was a short tunnel just a few yards up from where I was walking. Figuring that's where the guy disappeared to, I continued on foot, content on being alone again and brushed the eerie feeling aside.

When I reached the tunnel, I glanced into its passageway. Three black lanterns hung from the curved ceiling, illuminating the recesses in warm, soft light. Through to the other side I could see the streets and buildings of now-closed shops. Streetlamps of a by-gone era were all that revealed the colonial style structures.

Looking ahead, I knew this short byway was the only means out unless I wanted to travel back the way I'd come. That, or keep moving forward until I reached the other side of the town. I heaved a sigh of indifference and stepped over to a bench by the tunnel wall.

"Good a place as any," I mumbled to no one in particular.

I stared at the plant life for a while, not really seeing it. The varying shades of green and yellow blurred into one, like a painting whose edges needed to be refined. Some of the leafy undergrowth looked too waxy to be real, but then again, that was the point. If it looked false to me, then it would probably look false to those wishing to eat it.

After a moment I looked to the starless sky, to the pale moon, seeking answers I was never likely to get. I reached for my bag again and placed it on my lap. I was tempted to reach inside once more, but I left my idle hands where they were, and stared at my purpling fingers.

"Life is meaningless," I uttered callously.

"Now why would you say a thing like that?" a deep voice said, jaded yet animated.

Startled by the unfamiliar voice, I jumped and turned, my heart racing. An incredibly tall man with long disheveled brown hair was staring at me, his form leaning against the cement of the tunnel. He was wearing a strange look of intrigue on his face.

I stood from the bench holding my bag and turned to him. His face was pale and covered in dark stubble that matched his hair. His attire was dark but relatively normal compared to what some people wore around the city. Dark jeans paired with brown leather boots reached his mid-calf. Hidden under a dark suede jacket that dusted about his knees was a grey shirt, and the few metal chains that hung against his chest looked old and worn. Black fingerless gloves adorned his hands.

He was handsome. I tried not to let his looks cloud my judgment.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked the pale stranger, alarmed that I hadn't seen him approach in my periphery.

"Not long," he responded, head tilted slightly. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light but went no further, keeping a small but firm distance between us.

He didn't say anything else, just stared at me with a cool look that I tried to echo back at him. Even though he was standing a few feet away from me, I still had to lift my head and look up in order for my eyes to reach his face, and I wasn't short by many standards.

"I didn't mean to scare you or intrude," he explained, his voice deep like the sea. "I only heard what you said and, well, curiosity got the better of me." His timbre was calming.

I pressed my lips together and cleared my throat. "It's okay." My voiced faltered anyway.

He gave a crooked grin that revealed straight white teeth.

"But that doesn't mean I have to answer you," I finished as civilly as I could manage. I didn't want to start anything I couldn't finish by provoking the guy.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of us moving toward or away from the other. There was something strange about the man in front of me that I couldn't place. Since he'd arrived my back was rigid and my shoulders were tense. Perhaps it was because he'd caught me off guard and the adrenaline hadn't depleted yet. Or maybe it was something else.

But then something in the back of my mind told me to calm down, and I remembered what my intentions were, however ill thought out and impulsive they were. I'd come here for a reason even though I'd explicitly told myself there was no agenda.

I'd been lying to myself. There was no cause to be fearful now.

I let out a breath I'd been holding for too long and managed a small smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

His body language betrayed the tenor in his voice; he sounded impassive but appeared otherwise with the way he was staring. "Yeah," I admitted slowly, "I'm fine." I added a _yes_ for reassurance. Whether it was for him or me I couldn't say.

He nodded minutely, his eyes skeptical as they landed on the black bag clasped in my hands. I carefully let it return to my side.

"What are you doing out here by yourself this late?"

I shook my head from side to side, signifying I hadn't been doing anything and said, "Thinking." I readjusted the shoulder strap that was now digging into my skin. "Is it a crime to be out this late?"

"No. Just unusual."

"And why are you out this late?"

He glared at me for a moment before answering. "I was eating."

"At two o'clock in the morning?" I furrowed my eyebrows, unconvinced. Personally, I found it strange that people would eat this late, but that was me.

"I eat when I can, and I hadn't eaten in a while."

There was a serious yet satisfied look on his face that made me believe he was telling the truth. There were plenty of diners and other eateries that were open all day and night around here. I didn't say anything but instead nodded at him. I wasn't very good at keeping up conversations, especially with people I didn't know.

"I'm Garrett," he said. He stepped forward and bowed slightly, extending his right hand. The other hand he pressed behind his back to complete the gesture.

I paused, unaccustomed to the movement. It was an odd thing to do but was nevertheless charming. It brought a strange half-grin to my lips and I wrinkled my brow, accepting his gloved hand. The tips of his fingers were cold as ice, which was a shock. I reflexively glanced up but stopped myself before making eye contact with him, and quickly looked back down to our hands.

"Cold, I know," he said apologetically, before graciously slipping free of my own fingers.

I curved my neck to the side and said, "No, it's just that I'm used to being the one with cold hands." I smirked at my own comment, thinking how true the statement was.

"Your hands are quite cold," he offered, pausing before adding, "for a human, anyway." Mirth was written in his eyes and mouth. "You are human, aren't you?"

The slightly crooked smirk he was giving me caused me to smile diffidently, easing some of the worry I'd been feeling. What relief I felt snaked through my chest, swirling and diffusing like the cream in a coffee. "I'm Ray."

"Ray," he stated, leisurely moving to stand beside me by the bench. "I haven't met many Rays." He gestured for me to sit down, following suit once I did. "At least none that were female."

"My dad wanted a son and got me instead." I grimaced. "I don't think I've ever met a Garrett before," I confessed, looking up to meet his eyes. I was surprised at their odd color, not having noticed them before. Now that he was closer it was hard not to see them. They were as bright as rubies. Red wasn't a natural eye color, but their shade didn't appear false.

"Your eye color is remarkable," I stated with a small amount of wonder, glancing from one of his eyes to the other.

He stared long and hard at me before looking away, his expression remaining solemn. "Thanks," he muttered tightly.

Evidently my comment bothered him. I apologized.

Garrett turned his head back to me, gazing down at my face. The longer I looked in to those red pools, the more I found myself wishing my eyes were such a color, not that I thought there was anything wrong with my brown ones. I blinked a few times and glanced into my lap where my bag was.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked, breaking the silence. "I can hear it in your voice."

I _hum_med and said, "No, I'm not. But you don't sound like you're from here either."

"Indeed, I'm not," he relented, "but I've stayed here many times. It feels like a home away from home."

When his eyes found my face again he gave a sad smile. He looked weary, as though speaking of home had caused old memories and longings to resurface. I offered a similar smile in return, for I knew the feeling.

I longed to go home, but that place was no longer what it once was. In place of happiness and joy there now lurked bitterness and unwelcome feelings. Staying there felt like being in an airtight chamber that was slowly depleting its oxygen source; it was suffocating. Wishing for it to magically revert back to the way it was proved meaningless. The damage was done.

"So where is it you're from," Garrett requested, "if you don't mind my asking?"

"Some place out west," I offered, shrugging my shoulders. I really didn't want to speak about the place I had so recently left. "What about you?"

He mimicked my mannerism and said, "Some place in the northeast." He paused, waiting for a reaction I assumed. When I didn't give him one, he asked, "Are you here with your family or friends?"

There was something in his voice that made me wonder if he already knew the answer to his question. Or maybe it was the way he was slowly scrutinizing me, like trying to find hidden words among a bunch of random letters. I didn't know if I should tell him the truth or not; I had only just met him. Revealing personal things to strangers, things like coming to a city in another state all alone, wasn't very smart.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear and looked at Garrett. "Actually, I'm not here with either." I wasn't sure what made me say it. Was I not thinking clearly? The truth was my thoughts couldn't have been clearer than they were now. There was still something not wholly right about Garrett; that I could still feel coursing through my body. It was danger. "I came by myself."

"That was brave of you," Garrett acknowledged, considering something unknown to me. "How long have you been here?"

"Not too long," I said, tilting my head away from him, "perhaps a week or two." And I'd been to the spot we were in now multiple times since then, never meandering too far outside of it. Perhaps it was the sea that kept drawing me back. I wanted to look upon those dark waters again.

I stood from the bench and Garrett followed my movements with his eyes. Now the tables were turned and he had to look up at me. I crossed my arms over my torso at the abrupt cool breeze that passed over and through me, my skin prickling. "I'm going to walk down to the railing," I said, a little hesitant. "Do you want to come with?"

"Why not go down onto the beach itself?" he answered, guessing my purpose.

"I thought the beach was closed at night?"

Garrett showed his perfect teeth behind a knowing smile and stood up. "Come on," he said, and motioned for me to follow. I merely stared at him as he began walking back the way I'd previously come, and wondered if I should follow the tall, dark stranger.

A few seconds later he stopped and turned back and playfully said, "Are you coming?"

"Um," I said a bit tremulously. I bit my upper lip and glanced down the short tunnel and back to where Garrett was waiting. I knew nobody else was going to be down on the sand and that we weren't supposed to be on the beach this late. I thought about what the consequences of being out of eyesight with Garrett would be or whether or not we'd be caught.

What did it matter, anyway?

"Okay," I surrendered, and strode toward him at a brisk walk.

When I arrived at his side he looked down at me and commented that we didn't have to go onto the beach if I didn't want to. He only thought I might like the view better. "It's all right," I breathed, "we can go."

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**Hmm, there you have it. Stay tuned for more, because there will be more. And just so you're aware, this story won't be very long. It's more of a one-shot that I'm splitting up into a few chapters because otherwise it would be monstrous for one sitting. All of what I write will be about 3,000 words in length for each piece, so I won't cheat anyone with short chapters because I also hate that.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	2. Tick, Tick, Tick

**Quick warning: there are discussions of life and death in this chapter, so please do not read it if you're easily triggered by these topics. I don't think it's that severe, but what I perceive as one thing, you may perceive as another. You have been warned.**

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Chapter 2 – Tick, Tick, Tick

As soon as we reached the waist-high barrier I stopped and leaned against it, looking out over the black expanse of the landscape. Garrett pulled in beside me, resting his elbows on the cold metal as well. I closed my eyes briefly and inhaled the salt-stained air. Before I opened them again I could feel his gaze on me. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I lifted my lids but refrained from looking at him. I instead chose to look at the nightscape for a few minutes longer.

"We can stay here if you want," I heard him say off to my right.

"No, let's go," I said, moving away from the railing. Garrett swept his hands out to the side signaling for me to go ahead. As my legs weren't as long as his, Garrett slowed his pace so we were striding together, and soon the barricade disappeared to reveal level ground with grass and another walkway leading down to cement stairs and finally to the coast.

As I turned to head down that way Garrett stopped me. "There's a camera on that lamppost down there," he pointed. "Give me a second."

He walked away before I could say anything, so Garrett didn't see my look of uncertainty. I took a few seconds and glanced around and behind my shoulder to see if anyone was near. Of course, no one was, so I turned forward again and found Garrett standing by me.

I jumped with a start at his sudden reappearance. I hadn't heard him come back; not even a scuffle of a boot or a ruffle of clothing. I gathered my senses and mumbled, "What did you do?"

"I made it so we wouldn't be seen."

I looked at him, doubtful, but followed his lead when he began to tread down the walkway. At the top of the stairway a metal lamppost stood off to the side, illuminating the surrounding area in harsh light. I saw the camera higher up and wondered how Garrett reached it. Further down and drilled into the post was a metal sign warning people not to go onto the beach at night.

I looked to Garrett. He cocked a smile and said, "Ladies first."

I didn't allow myself to stop and think about what it was I was really doing. Never in my life had I willingly followed a stranger. I felt the apprehension building in my chest as we both descended the stairs and stepped onto the sandy shore. I pushed the feeling aside as soon as I hit the sand. I silently told myself again that there was no reason to be fearful. Anxious? Yes. But fearful? No.

All around me was an open stretch of beige sand, and in front a vast black sea that reflected the moon and various lights from the city. Behind and to one side were hills full of shrubbery and palm trees, on the other a black cliff expanded and grew taller the farther that way you went. I started heading that way and Garrett followed.

"It's nicer down here," I offered as conversation, "a bit colder, but nicer."

Garrett voiced his agreement. "Would you like my jacket?" He shrugged the suede outerwear from his shoulders, the grey shirt underneath long-sleeved.

"I'll be fine," I insisted, shaking my head. "Thank you, though." I continued forward, scuffling through the sand when a few seconds later I felt heavy fabric fall onto my shoulders. It was cold, as if Garrett hadn't been wearing it at all. I eyed him strangely for a moment and pulled the coat from my frame. I tried to hand it back to him but he wouldn't take it.

"Put it back on," he said, not at all unkind. "I'm fine." It truly wasn't that cold out, but when a gust blew in off the ocean it was bitter.

"Are you sure?" I asked, before thanking him and putting it around my shoulders again. I was reminded that the material was cold; not a trace of warmth was hidden in those stitches. My eyes wandered over to Garrett again and I recalled his icy fingertips.

"Should we stop here?" he inquired after a short silence. I glanced around us and noticed we'd traveled a fair distance from the stairway. The dark water-eroded cliffs now loomed above us. I nodded and knelt to sit down in the sand. Garrett sat next to me.

"So why did you want to see this so suddenly?" he politely asked, vaguely pointing at the ocean.

I licked my lips and thought about it. "I guess it calms me."

Garrett searched my face. "Were you anxious?"

I sidestepped his question and carefully said, "A little." It was half-true. I'd been anxious all day, and as a result I came down to the pier to think. At least Garrett was being a distraction for the time at hand, although he wasn't really helping.

"And why's that?"

I met his gaze with a sly look and tried to smile. "I'd rather not say." There was a small reason to be guarded about what I'd been thinking on and why I'd come to the wharf, but Garrett didn't need to know that just yet.

His lips curved slightly and he bobbed his head, returning his gaze to the open water. "'Life is meaningless'?" It was rhetorical, but he'd gotten right to the point.

I turned my head and eyed his sharp profile a little irked. I'd silently hoped he'd forgotten I'd said those words, but alas, he hadn't. I pressed my lips together and glanced down at the sand. I slipped my fingers through it. It felt wet, but in truth it was only the cold that had seeped through. I dusted my hand off and contemplated on whether or not I should respond to him truthfully. I had done so thus far, and nothing bad had happened.

The danger I previously sensed in him still lurked in my thoughts, yet there was nothing Garrett had done or said so far that had caused me distress. I wondered if I was being paranoid, but his demeanor made me think otherwise. I was pale and had moderately cold skin, but Garrett's was colder and whiter, and those unnatural red eyes of his were beguiling yet dangerous.

"Yes," I sighed, finally answering him. "That's how I feel, anyway." There was no way around the topic now, so I figured I might as well get it out of the way, albeit a little earlier than I would have liked. Besides, it wasn't likely I was ever going to see him again.

Garrett snapped his head toward me, his dark hair swaying with the quick motion, and stared at me rather keenly. "Why?" His tone was breathy.

I honestly hadn't considered he was that curious. "You really want to know?" I posed, the feeling of uncertainty creeping through my veins.

"If I didn't I wouldn't have asked."

Sincerity was etched into his words but his expression remained ardent. I swallowed and considered what I wanted to tell him. It took me a minute or two to gather my thoughts and to sort through what I was going to say. I took a deep breath and turned to meet his red stare.

"Well," I started slowly, "when you're by yourself all the time, there's not much else to think about other than life and, by association, death." I stopped, scanning Garrett's face for any sign of belittlement or disinterest.

"Go on," he urged gently, eagerly.

I looked away from him out toward the sea and continued, slightly more relaxed. "The more I thought about it the more I realized that the things you acquire in life, none of it matters—not what career I choose or how much money I make. Not where I live or what I choose to do in my spare time, because how is all of _that_ going to help me when I'm a pile of ash or buried in a box underground? It's not, so why should I spend my energy to get them? The whole concept of it is just meaningless. The more I accepted it the more it changed me. I don't have any friends. My family has no use of me and barely speaks to me. I've never had a boyfriend or been on a date, but that's my own choosing. None of it matters. Everything is just one big distraction until you die… and then you have nothing because you are nothing and always were."

I was hesitant to look back into Garrett's eyes and see judgment there, so I abstained from doing so. There was nothing worse than opening up to someone and having them turn around and judge you for it, no matter how much you claimed to not care. I kept my eyes on the black waters, on the sandy beach, on my cold hands… anywhere but on his intriguing pale face.

"That's a shame," he said sympathetically. "Life is what you make of it and only you can give it meaning. To rely on others to provide that meaning for you, well, that's just oppressive. Do you want somebody telling you how to live? You're a beautiful girl who's far too young to be so cynical. You should be out enjoying life, not wallowing in it." He stopped speaking for a few seconds, and when he spoke again his voice was lower, calmer. "But regardless of that fact, I understand your viewpoint."

I shook my head with moderate irritation and said, "I'm too young?" I finally turned my head and saw his grave expression. For a moment I thought he'd been judging me and was getting ready to get up and leave, but his straight face made me reconsider.

Still, I put in a few words. "Society is oppressed. We _are_ told how to live and anything else is considered unacceptable. Besides, I think I'm old enough to be as cynical as I like. Life is short." I wanted to say a few other things, but held them back.

Garrett shook his head in disbelief but failed to speak. The only sound between us was the water lapping at the shore. He wore a pained look on his face, like he was keeping some remark from spilling from his lips and his eyes kept flickering to the various features on my face. It was starting to make me uncomfortable so I broke eye contact with him and glanced into my lap.

I could feel Garrett staring at me as I fingered the black fabric of the bag resting beside me when he finally spoke.

"Is that what you want," he asked after a minute, "to make your life as short as possible?"

There was no mistaking his words. They were said softly and caringly, but regardless of his tone the words he spoke shocked me. My skin goose-prickled and a shiver ran up my spine.

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously, not liking where the conversation was going.

Garrett took no heed of my words. "I understand the appeal of it," he said earnestly, "I do. The thought of ending one's life is quite tempting, is it not?" When I looked at him his eyebrows were slightly raised in an expression of sorrow and he continued to talk. "Believe me when I say the thought has crossed my mind many times."

I merely stared at him with a loss for words. Doubt made me think he was trying to coax an admission from my throat, but the way Garrett looked at me when he offered his own thoughts, it was like a confession. There was grief in his eyes and regret in his voice. I didn't know how to respond to him, and luckily I didn't have to.

Another short gust of wind swept up to meet us both. I quivered, pulling his jacket in closer around me. I hid my face in the shoulder of the smooth material, shielding myself against the wind (and Garrett) until it died down again. One breath was all it took to smell the scent emanating from within the pores of the fabric. I took another deep breath and closed my eyes.

The aroma was nothing I'd ever smelled before. It reminded me of cold, hard earth and snow, something you couldn't bottle. It left me in a stupor, and I wondered how he could possibly smell so good, or where he could have been to acquire such a scent.

"Do you want to end your life?" he asked lowly.

My eyes flickered open and I stopped breathing. "What?" I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly, or at all. I removed the jacket from my nose and breathed the fresh air, slightly disappointed at the scent of salt.

"I understand," he went on, "given everything you've told me and everything you've done so far." I realized what he was saying, and the notion of him thinking that I wanted to take my life made me uneasy, regardless of if it was true or not. I tried to brush his comments aside, but Garrett knew better with one simple look.

I tried to sort through what he'd briefly said. Something didn't sit right with his previous declaration, and I wanted a respite from his prying. "What do you mean 'everything I've done so far'?" I made sure I was looking at him before he spoke, conveying confidence as best I could.

"Your body language isn't hard to read," he offered, his words gruff. "You've been constantly switching between states of fear and calm, brought on by me, I believe. You sense there's something not quite right, don't you? But there are other factors, like walking through a presumably empty walkway alone in the middle of the night. You implied you don't go anywhere when you said you live alone. You revealed to me that you've only been here for two weeks, and that your home is somewhere on the other side of the country. That begs the question: what are you doing here, if not to contemplate your life… or your death? You've followed me, a stranger, onto a dark and deserted beach. You even led the way once we stepped onto the sand, leading me where the dark cliffs overshadow us and hide us from prying eyes. You've kept your bag close by you, which means there's something inside that could possibly do someone, or you, bodily harm. I can't help but wonder."

The more he said the more my frame tensed. My eyes had widened considerably and my body felt unnaturally alive with electricity. I couldn't take my eyes away from his. They were boring holes into mine as though he could see right through me. How he made those connections, I couldn't fathom. I thought I was the one in control, but Garrett had put everything together so quickly it frightened me.

I calmed my nerves by taking slow, deep breaths.

"See? You're doing it again," he pointed out quietly, genuinely. "You're trying to push aside intuition when instead you should be listening to it. You're doing it on purpose."

I didn't know what to say or do until I became conscious of something, a tingling on the back of my head and neck. "It was you," I said thickly, my eyes narrowing in realization. "It was you watching me, wasn't it?"

He yielded up a polite grimace. "You were right to suspect something when you first spoke to me, but the more I spoke to you, the more you ignored it…"

"Your voice is quite calming," I mumbled, my voice disembodied as I spoke beneath his words. He continued to converse without stopping, but I noticed the corner of his lip curl at my comment as I watched his mouth move, and I lingered on the sound of his low tones.

"… Granted, I wasn't going to do anything. As I said before, you struck my curiosity. You're still striking my curiosity."

I licked my lips. "And what was it I suspected of you?" I managed breathily, removing my glance from his mouth up to his eyes.

"I think you know," he said softly, coyly. "My cold white skin and red eyes are nothing you've ever seen before. You've already caught my scent through the jacket. One you've never smelled, but greatly enjoyed by the looks of you. I could tell by your disappointment when you removed your face from it." Garrett wore a soft grin. "I don't blame you, though. It's merely a genetic predisposition."

I stopped in my tracks, suddenly numb from his words, from his assertion of what he was. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be what he was implying. It was impossible. And yet everything he was saying I couldn't refute.

I swallowed. "That man…" I trailed off, my thoughts turning to the drunken rocker happily stumbling ahead of me what felt like hours ago. I flicked my gaze back to Garrett. He had a look of mild aversion on his face.

"His taste in music was appalling, and I was hungry. Would you have rather it been you?"

I nearly choked on a mixture of fear and loathing as I tried to speak. "_What?"_ was the only word I could get out of my mouth before the sound caught in my throat.

"I hated the first British invasion. I hate the second one even more." His voice was guttural and orotund, his expression one of pride.

I didn't know how to feel at that moment. Anxious, afraid, shocked, disgusted, surprised, dread… all of them seemed appropriate. My features contorted into that of disbelief, my mouth slightly ajar. "_Why_." One word comments were all I could deal out at the moment. My mind was racing far too quickly to come up with anything else.

"Old habits die hard," he grinned.

What he meant by that, I didn't understand, but one thing was for certain: I hadn't fully realized what had been happening until that moment. I could feel the bile rising in the back of my throat and all I could do was swallow to keep it down. Why Garrett hadn't done the same to me was throwing me for a loop. Was he playing with me?

And then everything came rushing back like a two ton wave. I had unknowingly set myself up as the perfect bait for him. From the moment I uttered those first words he'd known I longed for something other than life. _I_ had known it. I just didn't want to admit it, least of all to him. Garrett had me where he wanted.

I wearily looked into his eyes and said, "What are you going to do?"

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**Okay, another chapter down. Was I right or was I wrong about it being a mild discussion? :s  
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**Now that's out of the way, I want to thank _you_ for the reviews/follows/favorites. I know first chapters are always a little iffy because you have no idea where the story is going, but hopefully this chapter has given some hints and you're satisfied. Thanks for reading and being patient.**


	3. Choices

**Warning: there is a mention of past self harm in this chapter. Read at your own discretion.**

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Chapter 3 – Choices

He dropped the smirk he had been wearing and returned to his somber expression. He reached his hand out and I flinched, causing him to momentarily stop. When his gloved fingers resumed forward again I couldn't help but glance back and forth from his face to his hand until I felt the cold touch of his skin against my cheek. Only then could I stare at his inhumanly white face and wonder what it was he was planning on doing.

Garrett brushed his thumb along the orbital rim beneath my eye and whispered, "Nothing. Not unless you ask me to."

I scanned his face in search of a lie, trickery, _something_, and found nothing. None of it made sense. I knew what he was and what he'd done, or at least I thought I did. For him to freely tell me these things, that didn't mean _nothing_, and yet he was behaving as if it were so. What was he getting at?

"Why?" I uttered tautly. "If you are what you say you are, then why? I'm here, a free meal, free blood. _Why_?"

He looked slightly hurt and retracted his hand from my face and said, "I told you, it was never my intent. It isn't very often that I stop and talk with humans unless it's required, or they do something of interest. And you, well..." he trailed off and left his sentence unfinished wearing a strange and curious look in his eye.

I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to hear the rest of it, anyway.

There was a heavy silence filtering around us until I spoke with faint frustration at his use of the words _human_ and _they_ as if we were so different, and Garrett quickly offered his rebuttal.

"Oh, but we are different. We may look human from afar, but once you're close enough you can see that we're not. Our eyes, our skin, our speed and strength, our ability to withstand the wear of centuries and not look a day over the age we were changed. Even our appearance surpasses that of humans, because we are designed to invite you in and cloud your judgment until the time is right. And by then it's too late for them. But for you," he paused for a moment, considering, "I want it to be your decision."

My eyes narrowed, and just when I pursed my lips to ask another question, Garrett seemed to read my thoughts and answer before I could even get a sound out.

"I want you to admit why you're here."

"And then what?" I asked with meek indignation. "You're going to let me go after all of this, after everything you've said? I really doubt that." Traces of fear were speckled in with the anger in my voice and I was sure Garrett heard it, but he never responded to the allegation. He instead stared at me like a ghost with a look on his pale face that confirmed my notion and filled the pit of my chest with dread.

I remained unmoving, so still I could feel my body teetering from side to side with the motion of the earth spinning on its axis. "So you are playing with me," I calmly stated, the tiny veins in my eyes throbbing in unison with my heart. I vaguely saw his head move back and forth in answer, but I paid him no mind. I had no hint of what to anticipate from him, but I tried to stay as self-possessed as I could, breathing deeply and evenly and attempting to make sure the muscle in my chest didn't go into overdrive. All I could do was simply stare beyond him until I couldn't reason any longer.

"It's not what you think," he remarked.

I felt light of head and body and still didn't trust his words, but I didn't think I had a choice. He was stronger than me, faster than me. There was no point in trying to get away.

"Okay," I said indifferently, returning my gaze to his, my eyes burning from going too long without blinking. It wasn't likely I was going to have any sudden revelations about what to do and there was nothing going through my mind other than what was in front of me, and that was Garrett.

The whole time I watched him his expression never changed—not a flicker of surprise or cunning made itself known across the masculine planes of his face. He had the same grave air about him, though his eyes seemed to brighten and appear as red as ever.

My words hung in the air as I pulled back a curtain of hair separating me from him, exposing my throat. I turned my head and looked at him and he reached out, his hand barely grazing the skin below my ear, his ruby eyes stagnate.

I keenly watched him as I felt his thumb stroke the same spot over and over again, up and down. He appeared transfixed, his mouth barely parting before gritting his teeth. Garrett applied a small amount of pressure under my jaw and I knew he was feeling for the pulse of a carotid artery. I glanced down, swallowing, and closed my eyes waiting for his advance. To keep my thoughts from becoming too loud and forcing me to panic, I focused on the sound of the blood rushing in my ears and the increased rise and fall of my chest.

Garrett's fingers flexed under the throbbing of the vein in my throat for a short-lived second, causing me to sharply inhale before he relaxed his hand again. It seemed eternity had come and gone before I felt the cool slip of his touch no longer, forcing me to lift my lashes and carefully peek at him. Garrett was scrutinizing me with what looked like a mixture of curiosity and trouble.

"Through all your trepidation, I can still see sadness in your eyes," he said quietly. Garrett picked up one of my hands and turned it so my palm was facing up. I already knew he was going to pull the sleeve of my shirt back before he did it, and I instinctively pulled my hand away but stopped unbidden as the black cotton slowly revealed two vertical scars placed on either side of my wrist.

I wondered how he knew they would be there, but off-handedly pushed the thought aside because there was no point in wracking my brain over it. Long seconds ticked by in silence before Garrett glanced up at me. "And the other?" he asked, his voice low and silvery.

I gave him the other hand and he tugged at the fabric, exposing two similar scars matching the other set like near mirror images. I merely watched him as he inspected the flesh of my wrists and ran his thumbs over the raised tissue. His light touch tickled the thin skin there but I never protested or yanked away from him.

Garrett's eyes were downcast and his lips were closed, appearing deep in thought. After a few minutes of stillness, he finally pulled my sleeves down but kept his grip on my forearms. "When did you do this?" he asked, his voice heavy yet soft.

I considered for a moment, unsure of where this conversation was headed and finally pulled free of his grasp. "About two years ago," I said, looking away and tugging the shoulder of his jacket back onto mine, it having slipped when I first tried to pull my hand back from him.

"Who found you?" His voice sounded imploring, as I was sure the look on his face was as well.

I quietly sighed, full of resentment. "I was told my parents did. I was unconscious when it happened, but when I woke up I was alone in a hospital bed bound to the railing for my own protection." I tightly pressed my lips together. "I was there for 18 months and the whole time my parents only visited me a handful of times. It was always awkward and silent and never lasted very long." I paused momentarily, remembering the day I went home. "I'm surprised they didn't just leave me there. Permanently, I mean."

I could feel Garrett's red gaze on me, reading and studying me like an open book, putting the pieces of the puzzle together as he'd cleverly done so before. I felt the knot in the pit of my chest deepening.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

I creased my brow in confusion, finally lifting my head and peering at him. "Why? It's not your fault."

"I know it's not, but I still am."

I suddenly felt overwhelmed, the knot in my chest expanding. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, weary of being pored over and toyed with. My eyes wandered his face in search of _anything_, but no matter how hard I tried to figure out what he was thinking, I couldn't read him. "A moment ago you were threatening me, and now you're treating me as if you hadn't."

Garrett straightened his back and bent his head to the side. "I have not threatened you," he insisted calmly. "I purely showed you the truth."

I inhaled deeply through my nose, bothered by his retort. "You had no reason to tell me what you are," I said. "What was the point?"

"Ray," he purred, using my name for the first time, "you already knew, so there was no point in hiding it any longer."

"I did not." I shook my head in denial. Or maybe I did, maybe somewhere deep in my subconscious thought I knew him for what he was and took him as is. Perhaps he'd been right and I'd been ignoring intuition to go along for the ride.

"You may not have known _what_," he remarked throatily, "but you knew."

I stared at him, processing his words. "So that's why you think I followed you down here?"

He paused, and I thought I saw the corners of his mouth curl upward. "I think you followed me down here for other reasons."

And here we were, back to the issue at hand. Garrett had the idea in his head that I came onto the beach to offer up my life to him, or at least that's what I thought he was playing at. Why else would he smirk and say those words to me? Why else would he tell me what he did to stay alive, or admit what he was? Why else would he ask me if I wanted to die? There was no other logical explanation.

I nodded my head disbelievingly. "Well, aren't you perceptive?"

"I've had a lot of time to develop my talents."

I knew he was trying to make light of the subject matter, but it didn't bring a smile to my lips. I didn't know what to think or how to feel. Upon meeting Garrett, yes, I felt something in my bones telling me he wasn't harmless, that danger lurked beneath that handsome exterior. But did I know he was a predator as such that he was? There was a possibility I did, deep down, but what was strange was that he hadn't done anything to me yet.

Did knowing this change things? Did it change how I felt? Did it change why I was here?

I wasn't sure if it did. Garrett called me out on many things and he was right for the most part. I came here to end my life, and it was time I stopped rejecting my thoughts and acknowledged they were what they were.

I stopped debating then, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck standing up and causing a jolt to run down my spine.

Meeting Garrett was kind of perfect, I suddenly realized. A predator was a predator, and as ridiculous as it sounded, I wanted to be prey. Why I had been fighting him on this and why I had been so beside myself when he lifted the scales from my eyes, I didn't know. None of it mattered; all of it was trivial. I'd made my decision long ago, and now I was going to go through with it, no matter how it was done.

But somehow knowing _this,_ knowing that Garrett was something of a conundrum in society, well, it made everything so much better.

I licked my lips and slowly slipped his jacket from my shoulders. I brought it to my nose one last time and inhaled deeply before handing it back to him. "You do smell good," I said breathlessly.

Garrett was looking at me strangely, his eyebrows slightly wrinkled and his mouth drawn. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I don't want to get blood on your jacket. It'll never come out in that," I said softly, referring to the suede material it was made of.

He gingerly took the outerwear from my grasp and set it between us, perplexed by my sudden shift in attitude. "This is what you want?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.

I inclined my head slightly, my thoughts clear but still of Garrett. I lifted myself up so I was balancing on my knees and shuffled over to him so I was closer. We looked at each other for a passing moment before I decided it was my turn to touch him. I watchfully lifted both of my hands and placed them on either side of the scratchy surface of his face. "I don't want to lie anymore," I whispered, drawing my eyebrows together. "You were right."

By that point Garrett had joined me on his knees so that I was, yet again, looking up at him. Both of his hands were loosely wrapped around my wrists and he was staring into my eyes unyieldingly. Fully realizing him for the first time, I was struck by the unearthly beauty of his features, and for a fleeting moment felt lightheaded.

"Okay," he said, gently removing my hands from his cold flesh and placing them around his solid torso. He slid his icy fingers along my neck, gathering my hair into his hand only to let it cascade down my backside.

As Garrett leaned closer my body intuitively tensed and I dug my fingertips into his sides. This was not something I had ever considered—could never have thought of—and it gave me small pause, no matter how inviting of it I told myself I was. "Will it hurt?" I asked, the words escaping before I could think.

"For a moment," he said quietly into my ear. One of his hands cradled the base of my skull while the other was splayed across the middle of my back, supporting me. I could feel his cold breath on my skin and it made me quake in his grasp, giving rise to goose-prickles.

Death was certain, that I knew. I could feel it in my beating heart, I could feel it in the chemistry flowing in my blood, and it forced me think of a few things I hadn't done that I perhaps should have.

"Garrett," I said, using his name for the first time. "Will you do something for me?"

And then I retracted my previous thought, because it never would have been right or felt genuine to have experience them in a different setting.

"Anything," he responded, his voice heavy and sonorous.

I knew this was the only moment where any of it would feel like it meant anything. I hesitated for an instant, my breath drawn and waiting to be exhaled into a few short words.

"Kiss me."

His movements stopped and he removed his face from the crook of my neck to look at me. He searched my face, his red eyes dilated and moving toward my mouth. Garrett lowered his face closer to mine so that his lips were barely hovering over my own. For a split second I didn't think he was going to grant my request, but a moment later he pressed his frozen mouth to mine and I closed my eyes, lost. The kiss was soft and brief, and the sensation of his cool lips bearing down on my warm ones was strange.

_A kiss of death_, I mused.

When he broke contact I kept my eyelids shut. "Thank you," I said softly, breathing deeply. I felt him return to his previous position and heard him inhale, felt his mouth brush against my throat.

"Goodbye," he whispered into my neck, tickling the soft tissue there.

That was the last good thing I felt before his teeth tore into my skin. Immediately my veins felt like they were collapsing and disintegrating in upon themselves, and that my nerve endings were sizzling like sparklers on the fourth of July. For a split second I screamed, writhing against Garrett's statue-like frame. Acid was crawling through my arteries and snaking into my organs. My senses were so overloaded with pain that my vision clouded and I thought I would swoon. My breaths were ragged and uneven, and I couldn't stop the whining from escaping my raw throat.

Garrett pulled away forcefully and pushed his face against mine, his stubble scraping my cheek, and sighed heavily. The contact of his cold flesh against my own was a small reprieve to the fiery sensations radiating throughout my body. He finally lifted his head and locked eyes with me, quietly shushing me. His mouth was red, covered in blood, and I watched him tongue it all away. A spasm of pain wracked my body and I cried out again.

While he was still holding me up, Garrett reached down onto the sand and did something with his free hand. Seconds later he lowered me on to the earth where his jacket was and I brought my fingers to the fresh wound on my throat, hissing at the sudden, sharp pain. I brought my hand in front of my eyes, seeing it coated with blood. Garrett gently took my fingers and pressed them to his lips before slipping them into his mouth. I felt his cool tongue slide against my finger pads, cleansing the blood away.

I writhed in pain again, my muscles burning as if from a lack of oxygen. My entire body felt as if it had been thrown into a furnace, and just when I didn't think I could handle another second of it, the pain subsided and then altogether stopped. I laid there unmoving, afraid that if I did the aching would come back again.

Slow seconds ticked by and I carefully lifted myself up into a sitting position, my chest heaving. The sensation felt strange, unnecessary—_I_ felt strange, different. Utterly confused, I looked at Garrett with wild new eyes and said, "What did you do to me?"

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**Aaaaand that's it. This is the last chapter. I said it was a long one-shot, remember? I felt like this was a good place to end it even though it's sort of a cliffhanger-which I apologize for (not really, I love a cliffhanger because it leaves more for the imagination of the reader). But I left it with her asking "_What did you do to me?_" because I felt like Garrett betrayed her. She wanted to die and he had known it and spent all this time trying to get her to admit it-even insinuated that _he_ would do it for her-and he ends up giving her immortality. I imagine she'd be pretty upset with him after that. **

**It is what it is, but I hope you enjoyed reading it. I know it's not the best but I tried to make it plausible. Thank you for reviewing, following and adding this to your favorites.**


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